Brother: The Korindoth Saga
by Rick Spiff
Summary: Vegeta and Nappa, while clearing out a planet, meet a race of vicious aliens and a pair of exponentially more vicious humans. Mad violence ensues. Wimps need not apply.
1. Enter Korindoth

Brother

Episode 1: Enter Korindoth

Disclaimer: I don't own Toryama-sama's characters, just James, Ed, and the bad/good dudes they bring with them.

Warning: Sharp language (somewhat sharper than DBZ), violence, gore (more than DBZ), and maybe a little sexual innuendo. I would rate this fic a heavy PG-13, but not R. Enjoy!

* * *

James hunched over the ship's intercom, speaking to his friend and crew mate below decks. "Ed, are you ready for landing?"

A deep voice came from the small speakers, answering James with a small grunt. "Well, I've just about got it all loaded. Just the grenade launchers left I think."

James nodded. "Okay, the 'chutes look okay?"

"In perfect working order." Responded Ed.

"All right, be up here before I synch orbit."

"Right-O." Ed confirmed, before signing off.

James leaned back in his chair, eyeing the small planet displayed on the ship's main view screen. The circular bridge, just large enough for three people, was lit by the light of the main screen, the planet's vegetation coloring the room green.

"Data read." Said the computer in a simulated voice.

"Give me a quick run-down, DAVE." James ordered.

DAVE, the ship's on-board computer, was a remarkable piece of engineering that James himself participated in. An advanced A.I. that filled the gaps normally covered by a standard crew, it allowed James and Ed to go virtually anywhere without having to worry about toting extra passengers on their ship, the _Legacy 2_.

"K-778 is the second planet in a three-planet system. The other planets are both gas giants, with the innermost planet featuring a heavy-metal core. The stage three sun that sits at the center of this system is highly stable and will be for some five billion years to come. K-778, better known as Korindoth, has a moderate climate throughout the planet's surface. Surface temperatures range from 2 degrees to over 30 degrees Celsius. Average precipitation is one hundred centimeters per rotation. Most of the planet is covered in large lakes and long rivers that break up a heavy foliage cover, including 1,000-year old forests." There was a pause from the computer's voice. "It is rather like primitive earth, James."

"I know. Land of the dinosaurs. Keep going."

"No intelligent life on the planet. Nothing larger than your hand on the surface. Simple shell fish prolific in the lakes. Chances of higher order life developing are slim due to the lack of true oceans. Pity. A garden of Eden. Rotation period: 21.8 hours, approaching day-side. Cycle period: 312.24 days. The gas giant, K-779 would appear to be a giant blue glowing dinner plate. Six times the size of earth's moon from the surface."

James nodded. "Thank you DAVE."

"No problem. Jump-suit orbit in twenty minutes. Anything you want me to keep warm?"

"Some tea, and make sure you have a good bombardment window." James quipped.

"Transition time is forty minutes at optimal burn." DAVE stated.

"Noted. I'd rather have fire support than a quick out; it'll take forty minutes to EVAC from the surface, DAVE."

James checked his orders one last time. Ed Flemming and James Rahn, special operations group 442 were assigned to a backwater nesting operation; the two were to land on the planet quickly, clear any enemy presence, and place a marker beacon on the surface so a coming supply fleet would know the planet was safe. Any resistance was to be dealt with accordingly, but if a strong enemy presence was found on the surface, all transmissions were to be encrypted and they were to assume that a large fleet was nearby.

_Too simple._ Thought James. _We're gonna get hammered._

James made a quick check of the remainder of the ship's systems, just in case DAVE missed anything. The computer never did, but thoroughness was necessity, not luxury.

* * *

In a distant corner of space, an alliance of twelve races closely resembling humans had formed an Alliance. Called the Terra-Cor Alliance, or the TCA for short, they had banded together to fight a vicious race of warriors called Skeemdians. The Skeemdians had six limbs and bad attitudes. With technology to match the interstellar races of the TCA, the Skeemdians attacked with the intention of conquering the humanoids.

Putting up a surprisingly powerful defense, the TCA has been dragged into a ten-year war against the Skeemdians, fighting all over known space in massive capital ship armadas, and even facing off against one another on the ground of numerous alien worlds.

James, Ed, and the rest of the human race knew nothing of this until just one year ago.

The Skeemdian fleet and the TCA fleet had been fighting not far from an unstable worm hole. Most worm holes were short lived wrinkles in space- time, something the TCA called a jump-gate and was routinely used for interstellar travel by both them and the Skeemdians. As this worm hole was very near the battle, it became activated by the fleet's ships and a stray asteroid had slipped through.

Fired as a capital ship "killing" projectile from a planetary launcher, the asteroid appeared in the Sol system without warning, headed directly for the third planet of that system, a small blue planet called Earth.

James and Ed had survived by being in the right place at the right time. On Earth, they and a small band of rebels had been fighting against the Illuminati, a group of old men bent on running the world. So close to victory, the group had pulled back to wait out the Illuminati, giving them one last chance to resolve the covertly executed conflict peacefully.

They were awaiting their enemy's surrender when the meteor struck. Killing billions in a matter of days, life on the surface quickly became unbearable. What rescue ships the TCA scrambled proved too little too late. Only a few thousand people of a planet six billion strong survived the attack. Seventeen hundred of the survivors immediately signed up for military service, plotting vengeance against the Skeemdians.

As James and Ed had already spent most of their lives fighting a near- hopeless war on their home world, they knew the price of victory would be high. James had spent his time on earth learning to be the greatest assassin on that particular ball of mud. Ed was a respected designer of unusual weapons, a man who also knew well how to use his tools. Skilled scientist as well as tacticians and fighters, the two were quickly accepted into the R&D portion of the TCA military, building weapons to protect the future of the TCA and what remained of the human race.

Of course, that lasted all of two weeks before Ed blew up part of the research station they had been assigned to.

The military quickly sent them to a tiny planet in the middle of nowhere, figuratively speaking, and left the two to themselves. In months the pair returned with a fleet of astoundingly powerful ships, a space station, and LOTS of weapons. So many weapons, in fact, that the TCA scientist figured it would take years to catalog them all.

James and Ed selected the best of their ships, the general-purpose, cloaked assault gun ship _Legacy 2_, and offered their services to the military. Immediately the two were involved in operations all over TCA space, right on the front lines.

The _Legacy 2_ was an amazing warship. It only had a crew of two, but could hold hundreds of Marines for planetary landings and bristled with enough armaments to annihilate a full-fledged battleship.

Assigned to Special Operations Group 442, James and Ed took the fight to the Skeemdians with a ferociousness no TCA politician could have predicted. Their success in combat had the analysts calling the war "won." Victory should be theirs within a year; two on the outside.

So why were the two most dangerous men in the Terra Cor Alliance on a tiny, pointless assignment to baby-sit a planet in the middle of nowhere?

James didn't yet know, and now he wasn't sure he wanted to find out.

* * *

James walked into the rear cargo bay of the ship, eyeing the heavy trench coat that hung from a lone metal stand in the middle of room. To one side, Ed was hunched over a portable table, checking out a spare radio.

The "cargo" bays of the _Legacy 2_ had often held Marines, on some occasions bombs, and even more rarely, supplies. With only two people on this mission, the room seemed empty as they prepared for departure.

James quickly slipped into his custom-fitted Coat, ready for battle in a matter of moments. He had dark blond hair parted to the right and cool blue-grey eyes. His face was average, as was his height and apparently weight. Under the Coat, James was built like a gymnast and moved with the grace and balance of a martial arts master.

In contrast, his partner Ed was a monster of a man. He stood well over six feet and looked to have nearly twice James' mass--all solid muscle. His black hair was cropped short and had a small gap where a metal support beam had hit him in the head years ago, and he wore a constant smile that looked more than a little insane.

With their Coats prepared, the two stepped up to the main air lock.

"Hey, aren't you bringing that thing?" Asked James, pointing over his shoulder at the table Ed had been working at.

"No, just something that didn't work right in my Coat. I replaced it along the way. What's the place look like?"

"Tropical jungles most likely. Rainy, smoggy, a lot like earth."

"DAVE said it had almost one earth gravity." Ed said, rubbing his chin.

James keyed in the sequence to unlock the massive air lock doors. "You know, DAVE didn't tell me what the gravity was."

"I had to ask." Ed offered.

The doors slid open with a quiet humming.

"All right. The plan, one last time." James began.

"Give it to me." Said Ed, clenching his fists.

The two stepped into the air lock.

"We land by jump-suits. Parachutes open at eight hundred feet, standard emergency procedures. Find the enemy, avoid engagement, get a head count."

"I thought there wasn't an enemy." Ed said.

"Ed, if there wasn't, would they have even bothered to send us out here?" James asked.

"No, probably not."

The inner doors finished closing.

"Any way, if all goes well, we send down the recovery shuttle and place a marker, then leave."

"And if all goes badly, we take out as many of the little buggers as we can, right?" Asked Ed.

"Right."

James and Ed pulled what appeared to be cloth hoods from their trench coats. The hoods went all the way over their faces and sealed at the collar. The Coats they were wearing were halfway between a walking armored armory and space suits. The surface of the Coats could even withstand the heat and pressure of reentry.

The jump-suits had been built into the Coats; after fully entering the atmosphere, James and Ed would flip over and free-fall to about a thousand feet elevation, where their conventional parachutes would open, allowing them to land quickly and quietly. Landing over a jungle as they were was out of the question, so they would have to be alert and steer for one of the thousands of visible bodies of water during the descent.

After the seals around their hoods were complete, the material bulged from inside and turned clear. It took a few moments for both to get their gloves on, then check their suit seals. About the same time they finished, the air lock flashed green three times, then turned red.

It was time for descent.

* * *

Meanwhile, on the other side of the planet, a pair of small round spacecraft were on the fast track to the surface. Similar to James and Ed, they plunged into the atmosphere like meteors. Each spacecraft held a single occupant: a humanoid with a tail, wearing battle armor of the Saiyjin race.

* * *

The touchdown went smoothly, a rare case with complicated military technology, but James and Ed were safely back on the ground and liking it. The description from Dave did not due the life of Korindoth justice. While there wasn't so much as a blue-jay around to sing, the planet looked repleat with trees large enough to serve as apartment buildings if hollowed out.

"Damn, this place is something else." Ed had said upon landing.

"I know what you mean. Like Vietnam or something." James said.

Ed nodded, immediately understanding the reference from a tactical point of view. If there was to be any fighting, victory would go to the side using the dirtiest tactics.

The stage was set, the players all present.

It was time for the show to begin.

- TbC


	2. Enter the Skeemdians

Brother

Episode 2: Enter the Skeemdians

Disclaimer: I don't own Toryama-sama's characters, just James, Ed, the TCA, and the Skeemdians (well, there's more, but that would be spoiling the later parts of this story).

Warning: Sharp language (somewhat sharper than DBZ), violence, gore (more than DBZ), and maybe a little sexual innuendo. I would rate this fic a heavy PG-13, but not R. Enjoy!

The smell of cordite and the stink of dying vegetation hung heavy in the moist air of Korindoth. Forest-covered islands lay wasting in the water like doused cinders; clearings once teeming with ferns sporting ten- foot-long leaves smoldering like the craters of a massive carpet bombing effort. The forest was oddly quiet; the only ambient sounds came from the continuous rustle of softly falling leaves and branches laden with fruit that swayed in the not-so-gentle breeze high above.

James took it all in, crouched low in a grove of trees; each massive trunk twice as wide as he was tall. Only a dozen yards away, a group of Skeemdian soldiers patroled the area, working their way towards his position in a methodical fan formation. James was down half of his rapid-fire ammo, and he wasn't too keen on using grenades. The knives he brought had proven virtually useless against the tough armor that the Skeemdians wore for skin.

The rail gun was out; he'd use that on tougher troops. The handguns were useless at range; the Skeemdians would cut him apart if he tried those. He'd already spent more than 60,000 rounds of conventional ammo wasting the landing area, and while he'd killed almost a thousand troops with that firepower, dozens still tracked him through the woods.

Energy weapons were out; the batteries on his were shorted and useless. He only continued to carry it because vaporizing the darned thing was too dangerous out here in forest fire country.

He waited for them, forcing himself to be absolutely quiet. Hatred ravaged his soul, the urge to run screaming into the enemy's ranks, killing everything in sight growing stronger and stronger. With infinite will and patience born from many years of calm practice, he held himself still.

Once the enemy was past, he struck.

James sprinted from his cover, beginning with a leap and hitting the ground at a flat-out run. The tail guard turned just he closed on the beast with his sword drawn. A single cut severed the Skeemdian's primary nerve. Since the aliens had no necks, you either had to cut the entire body into several pieces, or strike with extreme precision when fighting them with a sword. James could handle them either way, but the odds weren't in his favor.

At the sound of his blade snapping bone, two more soldiers turned on him. The fore ranks disarmed their weapons. Too close to fight him with plasma arms, they went hand-to-hand... or hand-to-sword, as James preferred. Fighting a Skeemdian completely unarmed was dangerous at best, utterly lethal at worst. The average Skeemdian weighed over 200 kilograms and sported six heavy limbs like an insect. They had a highly flexible trunk and had learned to walk on two limbs. One on one, James would face four arms, each as strong as a normal human's leg, with six powerful and articulate digits. James often likened the experience to fighting a stable of angry mules with both hands tied behind his back.

He pulled back, drawing the attacking pair into striking at him first. They had been well-trained and attacked him simultaneously, but they did not quite have him. Still too close together, James was able to sever arms in one motion, only to leap into the air and attack both a second time from above. The first fell to a killing blow, the second rolling aside with a minor scratch. James immediately turned his attention to the next warriors.

Three charged him at once. James took on the first two, watching as they drew back and kept him at range. The third circled around behind him silently, then lashed out at James with a well-timed, explosive series of punches.

James had not forgotten the third attacker, even as his eyes followed the other ranks. They were circling him, closing in from the kill. As the third fighter unleashed his attack, the first two pressed him hard. James cut off two arms of the first attacker, and managed to block a strong combo from the second. He braced his stance for rapid movement, then blocked the blows coming at him from behind. The Skeemdian's armored fists slammed into his sword with a mighty clash that threw sparks from his blade. Already on the offensive, James jumped forward, adding the power of the fighter's blow to his own abilities, and jumped clean over the other two fighters.

The ring of his blade was still on his ears as he landed in a crouch. The group had pulled back. They circled him like a pack of lions gathering around a wounded zebra. James slowly stood to his full height and brought the sword in front of him in a guard position--only then did he see that why blade had sounded strange when he blocked that last blow. Eyes wide with shock, he stared at the sheared-off stump of his sword; the blade had shattered.

The Skeemdians stopped circling and the world became painfully quiet again.

James cast aside the remains of his sword with a ceremonial air about him. He eyed his opponents through slitted eyes. He had not yet begun to take the fight to them, and the pain and hatred of losing an entire race weighed heavily on his shoulders.

Again, the urge to fight and kill swelled with him. Called by his emotions, a blue aura began to form, outlining his form with the fire in his soul.

Over a dozen opponents surrounded him. _Fourteen fighters that I can see. Two with missing limbs, probably out of commission now._ Thought James. _That sword did __**not**__ work as planned._

The aliens seemed to glare back at him while his aura flowed around him like a column of hot air, pulling his hair up and tossing it lightly about while his coat rustled in time with that same silent breeze.

There was no tensing or relaxing on either side. A frightening stalemate was settling into place.

_Hmm... I didn't even feel that blade shatter. All tests noted it nearly perfect. A powerful Skeemdian might have that kind of strength, but could I..._ James thought frantically. He had been training for a long time. For the past year, he and Ed had vastly surpassed the abilities of normal humans.

_Maybe, just maybe I have a chance..._

No expressions changed. No threats or taunts were used. Only James' aura changed, increasing in power by the second.

As one the Skeemdians breathed in, preparing for the battle, a curious non-movement James felt with ease. Then, they attacked.

Instantly, James was under siege. The first was fended of by a vicious strike that left a crackling trail of blue electricity in its wake. The second fell to a rapid spinning kick as he tried to sneak up on James' back. Again, the blue lightning trailed his attacks. The third attacked with a series of low blows, aiming towards James' legs. James dived straight at the attacker in a blur, landing a single punch where the Skeemdian's head would be, driving it back.

A quick sweep took out another opponent behind him, then James drew himself into a combat stance and began turning in a slow circle. The aliens circled him in the opposite direction, holding back to appraise his newfound fighting abilities. Above them, lighting dances across rapidly gathering clouds. The skies had grown dark over the past few minutes and now warned of rain in their language of thunder.

No eyes turned skyward. All watched their chosen opponent. James saw many, the Skeemdians saw one.

Again the thunder roared out its call.

The Skeemdians attacked again, this time from all sides. James jumped straight up, evading the attack altogether. Why fight an impossible battle when there was an easier way to win?

The easier way to win was to fight them one at a time. Facing four double-jointed arms wouldn't be easy, but it would still be easier than facing a dozen. James landed near the edge of the group, attacking one soldier near the edge. The fool was boxed in by his comrades and had to block James' blow. Knowing he could only perform this attack a limited number of times, James used his Stone-crusher Fist technique. As his fist hit the Skeemdian's blocking limbs, something extra--something dangerous--leapt from James' aura and slammed into the alien with much the same effect as a jack-hammer. The Skeemdian's armor was blown apart by the attack, sending the nearby fighters scattering.

James landed on the ground next to the wounded fighter and used one of his many knives to quickly put an end to the Skeemdian's life. The alien didn't cry out in pain; it just collapsed to the ground without so much as a twitch. James calmly turned to face the rest, and the skies opened up.

With the rain falling down about them, in top of them, in between them, James engaged in battle with the rest of the aliens. A vicious hand-to- hand fight raged over the muddy ground, James drawing out fighters from the main group only to quickly end their lives. Those smart or skilled enough to evade his final attack once were left alone as another of their comrades was selected for extermination.

Still, James remained too close for using powerful weapons. His anger was his weapon, and this was to be his vengeance.

***

At that moment, Ed was hiding under a long-dead fern the size of a mini-van, counting his supply of grenades. There were seven enemy troops left, and more on the way if he didn't get lost in a hurry. He had a good five dozen grenades left, but they weren't terribly useful against his opponents.

When he and James had found the Skeemdian landing platform, they were more than a little worried. The standard landing compliment was around 20 soldiers with standard weapons. By the time they showed up, there were fifty thousand ground troops, two more divisions on the way with 10,000 reinforcements, and the soldiers guarding the landing area had not only set up a force field to protect their foothold on this planet, but were armed with the heavy fire energy weapons normally seen in major engagements. Standing out in the open more than a handful of milli- seconds was not advised when facing that kind of firepower. By the time Ed could sight and pull the trigger, he'd be a flash-fried corpse. Firing blind was an interesting solution, but the forest was too thick to really let him use the range.

What it boiled down to now was a lose-lose situation. He could fight them hand-to-hand, of course, but that usually meant risking life and limb. Pitted against a Skeemdian, the odds of a human surviving were about one million to one. His odds were much better--about even, when he didn't have bladed weapons. Once again, Ed cursed himself for not training with James as much. James was at home with swords, knives, and bladed chains. Ed was more a mace guy, but he didn't pack one of those before they left....

"Hmm..." Ed wondered to himself. "I could always toss some rocks at them."

However, no rocks could be seen on top of the waist-deep foliage that surrounded him on all sides.

"Stupid rain forest."

They were getting closer. Quiet for their size, the two squads were pressing on, hoping to corner and destroy Ed. Even if they were defeated, going out in a blaze of glory would make the reinforcements' job easier.

Ed took several deep breaths and put away his weapons. He didn't intend to die out here, and definitely not while fighting such a pathetic contingent of soldiers.

He stood to his full height, well over six feet. He felt small, surrounded on all sides by this primitive place, but his blood boiled with power and the thirst for combat.

"Come on!" He yelled, fists raised to the air, calling out his enemy. "COME GET SOME!!!"

They were happy to oblige.

Everything happened too fast, even for him. A blur of feet and fists. A hundred thousand blows passing in the blink of an eye. Even an unarmed Ed was a dangerous man to mess with, and the Skeemdians did not have the element of surprise.

He cut through them as the fire of a burning sun would cut through a spider web. A dash of instant violence followed. He emerged on the other side, mounting his hiding place of but a second ago.

Eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, Ed watched his enemy with clinical detachment. Stopping the first attack was instinctive. For the second, he would have to get inventive.

He leapt from the log just the second alien attacked, bouncing from the Skeemdian's head like a super-ball. He didn't bother to shed momentum as he landed; he simply tucked and rolled, crashing to the forest floor like a rock. The soldiers turned as one to follow him. Ed grinned; this might turn out to be easier than he thought.

Ed ran. Legs pumping like pistons, he was sure he left the Skeemdians in the dust. Limbs and leaves reached for his clothing, the fighter dodging at top speed. The wind cut at his face and howled in his ears. For a few seconds, he ran free and clear of his pursuers, but they did not remain behind for long.

The first attacked from the side, a maneuver Ed detected with almost supernatural ability. He ducked the attack without loosing a step, turned around in mid-stride, and swung a fist at the Skeemdian's face. It never entered his mind that he was running at nearly sixty miles per hour when his fist bounced off the armored Skeemdian's face.

"OH FU--"

Crash.

Burn.

Ed's life was probably saved by his coat. The Skeemdian fell at nearly the same time, tripping right over Ed's prone body. The weapons expert skidded for a hundred feet, shredding foliage while he splayed his arms and feet out, panicking.

"I am _never_ doing that again!" He screamed as he came to a halt.

He was covered in goo. Green, smelly goo. The Skeemdian he had just attacked was hunched over him. Never an expert at reading Skeemdian facial expressions, he looked at the geometric patterns that made up the Skeemdian's face and tried to smile thinly.

"Hi."

An explosion sounded in the distance. The Skeemdian obviously noticed it, but its gaze did not waver from Ed, who was working a spare knife down his sleeve. Gutting a Skeemdian with a hand blade wasn't fun, but being trapped under the behemoth, he was out of options.

For a moment, he could have sworn the alien smiled at him. Then, a blade punctured its chest, piercing through what passed for a Skeemdian's neck. Ed stared. He hadn't done that...

The alien was pulled to the side, its 200-kilogram body hitting the undergrowth with a wet crunch. James stood above his friend, bloody sword in hand, grinning.

"Knew it was a good idea to pack that spare." James smartly commented, offering Ed a hand.

Ed took the offering, getting to his feet. "Thanks." He said absently.

The skittering sound announced the backup encircling them. "Looks like you brought the party." James said, leveling his sword in an attack stance.

Ed retrieved the emergency crowbar and several hand grenades from his coat, standing back-to-back with his friend. "Ready?"

He felt James nod his assent. Another explosion in the distance kicked flaming trees into the air, the charred trunks leaving trails of black smoke.

"Any idea what the boom is from?" Asked James.

"Nope. I've been busy over here." Ed responded.

"Here's hoping they're friendly." Said James.

The footsteps drew nearer. A lone Skeemdian came into view, only parts of body seen through the heavy arms of a fern. James smiled at the approaching alien.

Both tensed, prepared for the worst...

- TbC


	3. Enter the Saiyajins

Brother

Episode 3: Enter the Saiyajins

Disclaimer: I don't own Toryama-sama's characters, just James, Ed, the TCA, and the Skeemdians (well, there's more, but that would be spoiling the later parts of this story).

Warning: Sharp language (somewhat sharper than DBZ), violence, gore (more than DBZ), and maybe a little sexual innuendo. I would rate this fic a heavy PG-13, but not R. Enjoy!

"I can't believe this! Energy weapons left and right, and now reinforcements!" He snarled. The voice of disbelief belonged to a fierce warrior outfitted with a head of hair that preferred the vertical. Though he was short, his wiry black mane made up for his lack of height by sticking into the air a comical meter or so. He wore a set of high-tech armor with extended shoulder and leg guards over a blue jump suit. His black boots slapped over the thick undergrowth of Korindoth with the wet crunch that can only come from oversized plants being trampled to death. "I thought this place was supposed to be a rock."

A second man followed behind the first, keeping his bald head low. Though he was clearly second in command, and merely watching his superior's back, he was a mountain of muscle, a physical power-house well over two meters tall. A thick handlebar mustache and heavy black eyebrows made up pretty much all of the hair on his head. His armor and clothing was very similar to the shorter warrior's, though he wore his colors as if they were an official uniform.

"Vegeta-sama," he pleaded to the shorter man. "These beasts have very powerful energy weapons. Wouldn't it be safer--and easier--to crush them from a distance?"

"Nappa!" Vegeta snapped, stopping in their trail through the huge woods and turning on his heel to face the large warrior. "Since when do Saiyajins automatically choose the _easy_ route to victory?"

Nappa was clearly taken back by the statement. He met Vegeta's eyes though, and did not back down. "My liege, these aliens by themselves are no challenge, but they come in great numbers and carry a LOT of firepower. Would you rather be dead or victorious?"

"I would always rather be victorious, Nappa--that's something we can't do from a distance." Vegeta answered, returning to his random stomping through the woods.

Nappa shook his head and started walking again. They were twenty klicks from the landing site, which was being fortified every minute they spent walking. Flying had proven too dangerous only minutes ago. With the abundance of ground cover and literally hundreds of soldiers armed with plasma arms, flying was NOT an option. Clearing out the area was possible, but there was a damn lot of foliage around. To make matters worse, the newly landed base had a strong force field around it, which would be hard to break through after expending energy on landscaping. It just didn't fit together well--a thorny situation where failure was not an option.

Vegeta randomly changed direction again, keeping them on a bearing towards the base, but in a zig-zag pattern to throw off any sentries. It happened that he stumbled upon a very, _very_ large group of the Skeemdians, which happened to be in the middle of setting up some kind of sensor array.

For a half-second, there was dead silence as the two parties stared in shock at one another. Then, Vegeta raised his hand. The Skeemdians went for their weapons, but it was over before they draw a bead on the stout Saiyajin.

"Was that _really_ necessary, Vegeta-sama." Nappa asked.

"Yes." Vegeta said, a measure of satisfaction in his voice.

----------

Ed and James had reached the front door of the next battle: the Skeemdian's landing base.

They were currently fifteen hundred meters away, wishing they had time to make a proper plan.

As it was, James would have settled for a face-to-face talk.

The two were fighting a group of Skeemdians between the trunks of massively overgrown trees. It was like fighting through downtown New York, only everything was brown and green. The immense tree trunks offered no protection from the Skeemdian's weapons, however.

"COVER ME!" James shouted, jumping from behind his cover. Ed reacted instantly, spraying their opposition with fire from his MB-666 machine gun. The .50-caliber bullets tore through the trees like a hot poker through a wet paper bag. The Skeemdian's kissed the mud and plant waste, while James did a complicated double-flip to the side, grabbing himself a nice sniping nest to work on the enemy troops.

As it happened, said nest was occupied.

James landed right on the back of a very large and battle-worn Skeemdian. A veteran of physical combat, the massive alien threw the man off with two of its huge arms. James crashed into the first thing that caught him, counterattack planned before his boots hit the ground. The Skeemdian wasted no time in closing on James, one hand aiming right for the human's throat.

James kicked the hand, connecting, and using the force to leap into the air. The Skeemdian stumbled back a step, but quickly recovered. James had jumped off of the tree behind him to gain speed, and was rocketing towards the Skeemdian soldier like a meteor of doom. The soldier blocked, barely, and James flipped over the alien, landing just behind him.

The Skeemdian immediately launched into a flurry of kicks, spinning to face James, and continued his assault with a full combination of different blows. Foolishly, James stood his ground. It was a matter of inevitability for the tired human warrior; he missed blocking a powerful punch aimed at his gut. He took the blow with remarkable aplomb, managing to stay on his feet, but his defense was suddenly worthless.

The Skeemdian went right through James' defenses, battering the assassin around like cat might bat about a ball of yarn. He finished off the string of body-shaking blows with a monster uppercut, rending the assassin airborne.

Then a scream began. A sudden metal shriek promising instant, flaming, violent death to any who did not immediately bow to its power. A slashing blade of pure energy cut off half of the Skeemdian's body with a single swipe.

James slammed into a tree.

The beam went sideways, the shriek only growing in intensity. Ed had his feet braced, holding the terrible machine of war that was cutting through the Skeemdian troops like lava engulfing a mobile home. He kept the trigger mashed against its stop for a full five seconds, the huge weapon vibrating in his hands.

James slammed into another tree.

His finger finally fell loose of the trigger and the beam cut out. Trees were just beginning to fall in the distance. The Skeemdians that were still standing were doing only that--not one of them were ready to attack Ed at the moment.

James slammed into another tree.

The barrel of Ed's plasma cannon finally stopped spinning, waves of heat rippling in the air. Trees started crashing to the ground in waves of deafening noise.

James slammed into the ground. And finally stopped moving.

Then, he groaned.

The stalemate dragged on....

_Man found dead from staring dumbly._ Thought Ed. _Not the way I want to go._ He stared down the collected Skeemdian troops, all of seven soldiers ready to tear him limb from limb. His finger hovered over the trigger of his custom-built 'Hair Raiser' plasma cannon, daring them to attack.

James managed to get on his hands and knees, coughing and swearing.

Ed decided that a hasty retreat was in order. "James! Let's move while we still have legs!" More coughing from James' position. "James, on your feet!"

"I'm... I'm okay. Just got the... the... wind knocked out of me." The former assassin said as he got to his feet.

"We're in bad shape, James." Ed yelled back to his companion.

"So I..." James heard a not-so-distant explosion. The Skeemdians even seemed to pull back somewhat. Inside his coat, James pulled a small lever that allowed easier access to his prized sword... well, one of his prized swords--those things _could_ break, after all.

Ed had heard the sound too, and cocked his head to the side to listen better, his eyes still tightly focused on the now confused Skeemdian troops.

They could tell it was coming too.

"Ed, I think we're in trouble."

"I hear it."

Another explosion sounded, close. The smell of ozone drifted over the abandoned children of earth. James' hands clenched at his sides. "That isn't a Skeemdian weapon." He said, his face taunt.

The Skeemdian troops seemed to agree, readying their short, sharply curved hand blades. Ed considered the crowbar in his coat, then the gun in his hands. While attacking things at random with a stream of hot death was effective, killing James with it by accident would rank very high on his 'not cool' scale.

Still, his grip hardened on the weapon in his hands. It was down to either them or the Skeemdians; as it had always been, as it was _meant_ to be. Fear was no excuse for a lack of vigilance.

"James," he said. "Get ready."

James locked eyes with Ed for a moment, nodding. If things came to it, James would save the last proverbial bullet for himself. Ed would do the same, and all would be right with the world.

At least, that was the theory.

The rumbling drew nearer, a cloud of yet-unseen chaos descending upon the amassed warriors.

----------

At the center of the chaos, two Saiyajins were fighting tooth and nail, praying for every advantage they didn't have. The Skeemdians were brutal fighters, individual soldiers heedless of personal injury as they brought their full fighting power to bear against the twin threats of Nappa and Vegeta.

They did notice that they were heading in the direction of the Skeemdian backup, and had weighed the possibility of being overpowered against the possibility of taking out the whole Skeemdian army in a single death- blow. The odds were not really in their favor, but Saiyajins took risks.

It was a simple fact of life.

Vegeta took point, trees flying past him at incredible speeds as the Saiyajin pair tore across the forest floor, occasionally taking a detour into the air, or off of several sturdy tree trunks. They had charged an entire legion of Skeemdian soldiers, and planned to rush the landing site, finishing off the enemy with that single crushing blow. Vegeta acted as a path-carving whirlwind of violence. He took the brunt of the Skeemdians' counter attacks, but swept past them before any could get in a second shot. It was Nappa, following closely behind his leader, who finally killed those distracted by Vegeta's rapid-fire tactics. Catching the Skeemdians in a high speed chase proved devastating to the lesser trained fighters.

Everything was going well until they breached the clearing where the party was really getting started.

James' brain just registered a blue and black blur at the edge of his vision, and then the entire front line of Skeemdian soldiers behind him vanished a puff of smoke. The explosion was just rocking him on his feet when a huge bald man came out of the ground cover, locking in combat with an abnormally large Skeemdian. James figured that he must be some unfortunate human, and decided that helping the man took first priority. He was doing well, whoever he was, for fighting a Skeemdian unarmed.

James leapt from the ground and attack the Skeemdian from the side, easing into the flow of combat with casual grace. The warrior allowed him to intervene without a glance, subconsciously avoiding James and allowing him room to fight the Skeemdian. Working in tandem, it was less than a second before they pummeled the alien into unconsciousness. The large man then grabbed the beast by a leg and tossed him into an incoming group of Skeemdians. He followed that action up by raising him arm and pointing an open palm at the group. James was ready to go for his gun, but what happened next made him pause and seriously consider having his sanity checked.

A ball of light suddenly appeared before the man's hand, waiting for an instant, as if cradled there, then shooting into the crowd of Skeemdians, where it exploded. Body parts flew in every which direction. The giant of a man turned to face James with a grin of disbelief. "Impressive. MOST impressive," he said.

James blinked. The words were _very_ similar to an old, _old_ common language that was in the TCA archives. He racked his brain trying to remember how to ask the man to repeat what he just said. When the proper words for "Who are you?" came up instead, that was good enough, and he asked.

"Nappa. What are you doing on this planet? You don't look Saiyajin."

Great. Wonderful. More words he didn't understand. "I'm James. We're here to clear this planet up." Okay, close enough, James figured. There were no more time for talk if he did have something important to say.

The small blur turned out to be another man, dressed similarly to the first, but with a huge mane of black hair that stood up straight from his head, as if he were being perpetually electrocuted. "Nappa!" He yelled. "What are you doing, stopping for lunch? We're nearly there." A Skeemdian came at him from the side, barely in the man's peripheral vision. He batted it away calmly.

James could hear Ed's jaw bounce off the dead plants he was standing on before the shriek of the plasma cannon started up again. James pulled his sword out, thoughts of coherent language drained his mind. The Skeemdians were massing their counter attack and their precious few seconds of peace were at an end. Before he raised his bloody sword to salute the combat they were about to engage in, James took a mental snap shot of the two new arrivals. He realized that they were more exhausted than they were letting on, and were getting quite worried. The fuzzy belts on the armor didn't fit in the picture right either. He set a mental red flag on the belts and sliced off the hands of another attacking Skeemdian.

Ed's spent plasma cannon hit the forest floor with a hiss, boiling the lifeblood of the plants trampled during their ordeal. The two new fighters roared a battle cry and tore into the Skeemdian ranks. The whole group began to move, rapidly, towards their common goal.

The fight was on.

- TbC


	4. Enter the Miscalculation

Brother

Episode 4: Enter the Miscalculation

Disclaimer: I don't own Toryama-sama's characters, just James, Ed, the TCA, and the Skeemdians (well, there's more, but that would be spoiling the later parts of this story).

Warning: Sharp language (somewhat sharper than DBZ), violence, gore (more than DBZ), and maybe a little sexual innuendo. I would rate this fic a heavy PG-13, but not R. Enjoy!

The sky of Korindoth was colored a gentle blue, a blue that held a delicate green tint as a summer breeze would hold the smell of fresh cherry blossoms. Trees reaching over one hundred meters into the sky, just tasting the fog that forever teased the roof of Korindoth's planet- wide forest. Little moved the moist, earthen air that hung nearly stagnant throughout the lowest parts of the forest, hovering over the ground plants like a living cloud, depositing life giving moisture on the sun-starved ground cover.

The sheer absence of sound seemed to enclose the area, as if the plants, forest, earth and sky were all inside a sealed environment millions of miles away from civilization. Not a single animal, not an insect, not a reptile moved. No indigenous life, save for the billions upon billions of over-sized plants.

Without a doubt, the most stunning arboretum in all of the galaxy.

And they spoiled it.

James went flying, between two trees the size of tractor-trailer rigs, in a graceful arc that terminated with a bone-rattling impact. He was off the ground a split second later, the low fog spreading away from the impact site in a lazy shock wave that had the opacity of a wedding veil. A crater of soft plants retained his body's shape, crushed flat by the "landing" he had made.

A Skeemdian fighter, a tall and gangly one, if such a thing could be said to exist, landed in James' crater with a snarl. The assassin had disappeared into thin air by the time the tall, six-limbed alien entered the clearing in pursuit of its prey. The Skeemdian had long red markings that ran down its front; two parallel lines from shoulder to groin. A cluster of what appeared to be feathers was attached to its organic armor in the place where a human would have a neck. It looked as if the decoration was pinned to the side of the alien's squashed head. He snarled a challenge into the warm air, his guttural cry absorbed into the thick forest with disturbing ease.

James answered the cry with a shout of his own, leaping from hiding to a tree truck, which he bounced from like a mad pinball. The rapid trajectory change temporarily confused the Skeemdian. The alien almost sprinted the wrong direction, falling for the feint. James dropped to the ground in a near-vertical arc, landing easily and sprinting for the alien warrior at top speed.

The two meet in an explosive clash. James attacked with a knee/elbow combination, curling up his body and twisting to the side, hitting the Skeemdian like a battering ram. The alien took the charge straight on, and both were knocked back only a few feet. They instantly closed on one another with animal fury, punches and kicks exchanged at lightening speed. Neither gained the upper hand for several seconds as Skeemdian and human fought for the simple right to survive, a battle only meaningful from the time it began until the time it stopped.

They broke away for an instant. James wiping blood from his lip, leaving a clean streak on his dirty and sweat-slicked face. The Skeemdian gave its upper right arm a solid shake and flexed its fingers, the limb slowly regaining feeling from a lucky hit James had got in. Both had eyes for only the enemy, but their ears listened for any attacks sprung from behind, their danger sense operating at its maximum.

Both were tired. The tingle of exhausted muscles ran well past their recommended mileage ran over James' body like an army of ants. The Skeemdian's posture was slumped, his hulking and surprisingly agile frame heaving slowly in time with its deep breaths.

Without warning, they both attacked at the same instant, some instinct buried deep within the ancient part of their drastically different brains reacting to the same chemical trigger. The Skeemdian attacked with two double-arm blows. James dodged the first and blocked the second with amazing strength. The Skeemdian flinched for a second, leaving the former assassin an opening. James kicked the Skeemdian in the mid- section, his foot bouncing hard, as if he had just kicked a solid concrete wall. The Skeemdian twisted to the side, though, clearly hurt and wary of a second blow. James raised both of his hands over his head and narrowed his eyes, clearly ready to end the fight post-haste.

The Skeemdian blocked by trying to grab James' fist, but the sore right arm was not cooperating and James' left hand went through its defenses, scoring a hit on the face. James' hand turned into a claw and his fingers bored into the alien's eye, chewing through the soft organs and shooting straight for the brain. The Skeemdian jerk away with a howl of pain, its lower arms grabbing James as it kneed the ex-assassin, trying to break the man's legs even as the two tumbled to the ground.

James' brain went into over-drive when the two hit the forest floor. Close-up combat with a Skeemdian was known through the front lines as the fastest way home--in a box. Plus, times were few when James ever had to fight a person for this long. Had he ever fought a person for this long?

Limbs were swatted aside mercilessly, some getting through, some being stopped by a last-moment defense. They struggled for the right to live, all sense of balance and beauty inherent in their mastery of combat gone, leaving only the desperate last gasp for life and the cold, acid sting of fear in the back of their throats.

As it happened, James pulled an arm free. With the flick of his wrist, a pistol appear in his hand, a custom-made handgun that served as James and Ed's last resort weapons. He placed the gun right at the opening his finger had smashed through mere seconds ago and pulled the trigger.

Three small, high-powered fragmentation bullets tore out of the barrel and shredded the alien's brain in the blink of an eye.

He pushed aside the lifeless arms as he took to his feet, drinking in the sweet air. A "thump" alerted him to the new group Skeemdian soldiers that had found him.

_Let them come._ He thought. _I will not die today, not on this rock._

----------

Vegeta was getting frustrated. It did not make sense, he was thinking as he slaughtered yet another Skeemdian with the casual movements of an experienced butcher, that he could not simply fire a single ki blast into that blasted shield and end it all in one shot. _Yes, that would make this entire trip worthwhile. These things may be relatively dumb and aren't terribly powerful, but they're damn annoying in these kinds of numbers. I suppose it is only the thick ground cover that is keeping them from mounting a serious offensive._

Vegeta put an end to a trio of would-be attackers before they came close enough to actually do him harm, and leapt into the air with a ki-powered jump, easily clearing the tops of Korindoth's tallest trees. There, only a few kilometers away--so tantalizingly close, but so very, very far away--was the shield that protected the Skeemdian's landing area. Bizarre ships, in organic shapes like gigantic planetary warts, sat in a cluster near the center. Power cables ran from eight of the parked ships directly into a squat tower at the center of the shield; obviously the well-protected shield generator. Ten ships. Ten thousand troops per ship. This was no minor operation; the Skeemdians _wanted_ this planet.

_And where the __**hell**__ is Nappa?!_

----------

Nappa was beating off Skeemdians with a stick. Well, not a stick actually, but a limb from one of the aliens.

_Where_ he was... looked like a forest.

"Hey, get down!" Shouted a voice from his right. One of humanoids, the tall one with all the big weapons, was running right at him, arms wide. His words didn't make any sense, but what his face had to say was clear: big explosion coming.

Nappa complied with the request by raising a ki shield to ward off whatever was coming. The tall man was behind the shield in a flash; betting life on the barely-visible barrier. The explosion was minor but colorful. An excellent display, knocking over about two dozen trees. The shock wave rolled over the hills, gone by the time the echo came back to the pair. Nappa lowered the ki shield and took note of the plants around him--particularly at how they were bent away from the explosion.

_That should have been bigger._ The humanoid said.

Nappa gave the man a twisted smile. He liked this guy's style. The Skeemdians, however, did _not_ approve of the humanoid's actions. To say they were offended was an understatement that was not worth contemplating.

Ed and Nappa turned on the tide, ripping into the Skeemdian ranks. Nappa went into the fray like a boxer two minutes into round thirty of a prize fight; tired but still in the game. Ed charged the horde like a man with nothing to lose, a crowbar cutting one way and a machine gun cutting the other. He waded into battle with a grim and unforgiving stare that promised death for any Skeemdians he put in his sights.

_Weird people._ Nappa thought to himself between exchanging punches with Skeemdian soldiers. Today would be... interesting. _I wonder what Vegeta is up to._

----------

"Die! Die! Die! Die! DIE!" Ed shouted. The last was reserved for a stubborn bastard who had parted with this plane of existence, minus hand. The appendage was still stuck to the make-shift bayonet he had fastened to his MB-666, wagging about like some obscene bloody dog's tail. Ugly thing, but what could he do to remove it? He was too busy _using_ the gun to keep his own hide in one piece. _Damn never-ending Skeemdians. Are they fuckin' multiplying at that base or something?_

At this rate the slowly warming barrel would work the Skeemdian flesh up to a moderate sizzle before he could pry the crap loose. What a mess. "Die TWICE, you mother-fucker!" The crowbar was also a handy weapon. Ed didn't exactly appreciate blunt instruments; possibly on account of how he had witnessed James use them time and frightening time again. Projectile weapons were more his style, but using the crowbar was far less exhausting than carrying his backup MB-666 under the other arm. The crowbar didn't exactly excel at killing aliens, but once they lost a pound of flesh to the over-sharpened claw and failed to connect with anything solid through Ed's melee defenses, they pretty much gave up the point-blank attacks.

Cutting into the fourth line of Skeemdians that charged him like doomed soldiers trying to clear a machine gun nest, Ed wondered if there was a backup plan. The tall guy they'd run into before was looking agitated. The language James had used with him seemed to get through, but Ed had learned long ago that fighting _and_ talking was a bad idea; speaking in an unfamiliar language and fighting was suicide. It surprised him quite a bit to see that the fuzzy thing about the warrior's waste was, in fact, a _tail_. They'd crossed paths a few times, zigging and zagging through the woods with a dozen divisions of Skeemdians on their collective asses. _A tail. He actually has a tail._ Pause thought process to cut apart half-dead Skeemdian with bayonet. Resume. _I wonder where he came from. His short friend has a similar tail._

Circular thinking. Consequence of too much combat.

He shrugged and concentrated on blasting more bad guys, with a few insults and cuss words thrown into the mix for variety.

----------

"NAPPA!!!"

Vegeta sucked in his breath, the scream still echoing through the valley he floated above. The big oaf _should_ have heard that. Nappa didn't get lost very often, but when he did, it always under the worst circum- stances, such as he was in right now.

_Where __**is**__ he?!_

"Vegeta-sama! Over here!"

Pan down and too the right. Nappa was jumping clear of the trees as well, transitioning haltingly into flight. He looked beaten, but far from out of the fight. Vegeta knew all too well the weariness etched into his features.

"What say we end this right now?" Vegeta asked his second in command.

"The moon sphere?"

Vegeta shook his head slowly. "Not now. It would be a major waste of power."

"We don't know that for sure. I mean, we don't even have our scouters right now." Nappa protested.

"What I'm thinking, Nappa, is that you cover me and I'll Final Flash the whole lot into ashes." It was not a suggestion, it was a command.

Nappa raised his guard and nodded once. Wordlessly, he dropped to the forest floor, his mouth a taunt line across his face.

Partly down, he ran into James. The two collided rather hap-hazardly in the air, resulting in Nappa just barely righting himself before landing, and James plowing into the ground yet again.

Nappa took stock once his footing was secure. No Skeemdians around him. He waited, but he could hear nothing save for James clambering to his feet. _What happened to him?_

"That is harder than it looks." He said, looking at Nappa.

"Excuse me?"

"Altering the flow of energy in your body to resist gravity. Neat trick."

"Trick?" Nappa's mind re-wound the last few minutes. That man in mid- air, no Skeemdians nearby to put him there. He wasn't flying earlier. "You just learned how to fly?" He asked.

"Well, more or less hover, but it's not that hard." The man said, still smiling faintly.

Sometimes the most obvious yet stupid answer _was_ the correct one. "Who are you?"

"I'm James Rahn, of the Terra Cor Alliance. The language you speak, it's an old tongue where we come from."

"It is?" Nappa didn't want to hear a linguist yak about Galactic Standard any more. His people had spoken the language of those planet brokers since long before he was born. Well, to the introductions, it seemed. "I'm Nappa of the planet Vegeta. I'm the second-strongest Saiyajin in the universe."

_Riiight. Ed, come out please._ James said.

The second humanoid walked out from behind one of the large trees, idly picking at some plant waste lodged in his newest weapon.

"You can call us earthlings." James continued. "That one is Ed Flemming. We're from the planet earth."

"Earth, huh? Never heard of it." Nappa said.

"You probably never will, either. It was all but destroyed not long ago. Attacked by these six-arm alien bugs we call the Skeemdians." James explained.

"Ah." Nappa said. "Speaking of which, where are they?"

"A long ways back." Ed said, hefting his weapon onto his shoulder. "They're massing for another assault."

"Vegeta-sama will take care of them." Nappa said confidently.

"Speaking of which..." James said, looking up, his eyes scanning the tree tops for any sign of the short fighter. His eyes suddenly widened. "What the hell is he doing?! STOP!"

_Hey! What's going on?_ Ed asked James.

"That guy--Vegeta--can't you feel his energy? It's focusing into one spot!"

"That means he's going to blow something up." Ed realized with a smile.

"Yes, but he's defenseless during the charge-up." James said flatly.

"Oh."

"That's why I'm supposed to protect him." Nappa said.

Two pairs of eyes locked on the Saiyajin. The three fighters gathered under the great trees of Korindoth just stared at one another for a second, a silent communication taking place.

They would have to rely on one another to get off of this planet alive.

Overhead, long tendrils of visible electricity began to gather around Vegeta, like spires of living lightning stretching from body to the ground below and to the clouds above. The sky darkened, and the air began to taste of ozone. A chill moved through the humans; they felt it, deep in their bones. An ancient power was slowly being awakened.

They could only guess at the destruction it might bring before them.

- TbC


	5. Enter the Really Big Explosion

Brother

Episode 5: Enter the Really Big Explosion

Disclaimer: I don't own Toryama-sama's characters, just James, Ed, the TCA, and the Skeemdians (well, there's more, but that would be spoiling the later parts of this story).

Warning: Sharp language (somewhat sharper than DBZ), violence, gore (more than DBZ), and maybe a little sexual innuendo. I would rate this fic a heavy PG-13, but not R. Enjoy!

"He's gonna get himself killed!"

James thought he was shouting, but everything around him was so quiet. The sounds of the forest, the gentle, hot breeze that reached them down here among the trees, all had fallen aside the moment he had begun to focus. He could _feel_ Vegeta gathering power far above. Nappa and Ed were next to him, arguing over something inconsequential. The words were ignored at his ears, their feelings, the movements, were transmitted to him as though he had grabbed a live electrical wire with their thoughts poured onto it. He decided it was a strange and not altogether frightening experience.

He could feel the power flowing through him, familiar and alien at the same time. A forest fire to candle as it was to all of his previous training. It was such a simple thing, to _call_ the power forth like he never had before. Funny, in retrospect, how easy it was once he had felt someone else do it at such short range.

It felt like his very life force was moving through his blood, reaching his fingers and flowing through his head. It caressed and protected him, fed him the living world and embolded his spirit with the same fire that fortified his body.

There was, he decided, nothing else quite like it.

As the strength came, the panic left him. His heart silently thundered in his chest, like the pounding of his spirit's war drum. His skin still tingled, but his senses where no longer in catharsis. Ed and Nappa were done with their words, finding cover against the assaulting force. Oh yes, that was it... like a dozen black dots of cold hatred laid upon his soul as ice laid upon bare flesh. They wouldn't last long.

Above, Vegeta's scream became something primal; something utterly not of the logical mind. It was not a conscious scream, James realized, but a scream of his body demanding release.

James focused on his life force again, his ki, he suddenly remembered it being called. Yes, this was what ki felt like... just a few thousand times as much power as what he was used to.

Now all James had to do was fly.

He had noticed when Vegeta had pulled off more than "air time" fighting the Skeemdians. As an expert martial artist, engineer, and space craft designer, he could tell when the laws of physics were being left in the dust. The only matter left to him, now that he had all of this raw power, was a matter of actually making use of it.

Above, Vegeta's aura burned with the might of a sun. The sky was already thickening with dust. Surely he could be seen from miles away. James had scant few seconds to get his attention before a mounted rail gun reduced him to only ashes and memories.

----------

Vegeta's aura burned white-hot, the sensation of destruction almost beyond comprehension held just barely in check a rare but familiar sensation to the Saiyajin prince. He had once likened the calling of this power to drowning slowly in a sweet, perfect sensation. The words felt hollow and inadequate compared with the actual feeling. This is why he loved combat so; living on the edge, taking action in situations others would try to talk their way out of. Truly, strength was coveted for the sake of strength and nothing else, for a strong enough man needed no one.

His target was a muddled and dull space, unseen; only remembered. He knew the general direction of the alien encampment. Surely it would be enough to merely get _close_. Why, if he hit them dead on, there would be nothing left!

Every muscle felt as though it was simultaneously trying to relax and contract at the same time. His skin was electric, crawling across his body like a living thing. His hair was cast aloft by the power flowing from his body, blowing free in a self-generated whirlwind.

Floating there, reaching, for several lonely moments, he prepared for the final attack. Focusing, directing, concentrating. He had to wait until everything was ready, then send it on its way. A little care package from the most powerful Saiyajin ever.

There. It was done.

With a little flick of Vegeta's wrist, the energy nicely organized itself into a ball of violence, a little bigger around than his forearm was long. He held it for a moment, his face unnaturally lit by its violet glow. Emotion welled up inside him as he looked at it. Anger, fear, pride, joy, sadness, all tried to overwhelm him at once, clashing only in confusion. He tightened his already iron grip on them, forcing himself to remain calm... a little angry, but calm in thought. Precise.

As much a warning to his second as a declaration of his superiority, his voice rang out.

"FINAL FLASH!!!"

----------

James felt it. It was rather like when his ears popped after a radical change in air pressure. Something clicked fully into place, a pressure suddenly relieved.

He was done.

James was only a dozen feet above the tree tops. Vegeta was several dozen feet above him, a giant, glowing target. He could practically feel waves of menace flow off the man. Of short stature he might be, but he was not a man to be toyed with lightly.

He was about to call out a warning to the warrior, already knowing he was too late, when the man screamed some incoherent noise and the world flashed white.

----------

The blast seemed to scorch the very sky--stained purple along the path of the energy strike, fading to a dark orange at the edges. Sound ceased to be heard and became a physical thing, destroying all in its path like an angry bear roused from hibernation. Trees larger the buildings James and Ed grew up around were flattened like toothpicks. Clouds hovering nearby from the recent rain, once giant black sponges of watery doom, simply ceased to be.

James blacked out instantly and was thrown clear of the firing point along with Vegeta, who was barely able to assure that he landed safely on the ground. Ed huddled inside his Coat, listing to the world come to a violent, apocalyptic end, like he always knew it would. Nappa formed a ki shield around him, reinforced it, and prayed nothing else had the power to attack him in this hell storm.

The crust of the planet shuddered as if giving birth, and a new sun dawned upon the ground. Energy lashed against energy, twin predators clawing at the bounds their masters' placed upon them.

And death tore through the Skeemdian ranks like the fist of an angry God.

----------

A dozen miles away from the smoking, former target, of Vegeta's attack, the two Saiyajins walked into a natural cave. It was well hidden, blending in with the face of a curious rock formation that looked for all the world like thousands of giant poker chips neatly stacked in irregular piles. I was impossible to see the rock, as every square inch of the formation (all 750 square miles) was covered in low-growth plant life that sprouted leaves, vines, and flowers of every color in the rainbow.

The cave was a good four meters tall at the entrance and hidden directly behind a grove of plants not unlike earth's ferns, except for their ridiculous size.

To the Saiyajins' dismay, Vegeta's attack only destroyed a portion of the enemy's landing forces. Obviously something with more finesse would be necessary. The Prince was tempted to use the Moon Sphere technique, but realized instantly that they would need to get a good head count of their opposition, lest they wear themselves out. The Skeemdian weapons were insanely powerful, and not something either warrior was eager to face while exhausted.

In addition to being an excellent hiding place, the cave held the Saiyajins' space ships. Each was spherical in shape, large enough for one good-sized Saiyajin and a minimal host of life support and navigation. The engines weren't complicated, as the pods were launched from planet based gravity catapults when leaving their home base on a mission such as this.

The Saiyajins retreated into their pods to rest, leaving the humans laying on the floor outside. Neither seemed seriously injured, only bitchy and tired.

James woke up during the "where do we toss their carcasses" speech Vegeta gave upon arrival.

Exhausted and emitting no power signature, let alone leaving a trail, they were safe for now.

Trapped behind enemy lines.

Their only path of escape _through_ their foes.

----------

Dawn, four days later.

James was laying on the ground near the entrance to the cave, looking between the huge ferns into the distance. The Skeemdians weren't dumb, not by a long shot. They had been slowly moving towards the cave, gaining more and more ground each day. Tomorrow they would swarm into the rock formations, looking to exterminate their enemy.

_At least there's not Landhoppers. Some Sky Goats, but that's about it. Probably a few thousand Skeeks down there._

To educate the reader: Landhoppers are similar to hovering bicycles, except powered by small ion engines. Very similar to the speeders from "Star Wars." Sky Goats are aerial gunnery platforms, so called because of the chunky design and the four massive energy cannons pointing down from the bottom of the craft. Skeeks are Skeemdian scouts. Compared to the average soldier, they pack less armor and are better trained in stealth skills.

Some things had changed in the former assassin in that last four days. Foremost, his bruises were completely gone, and he looked to be in a much worse mood than during arrival, if that was possible. The biggest changes were inside. He was seeing his entire world differently now, like a near-sighted man finally wearing a proper pair of glasses, he now saw everything clearly.

Ed walked up behind James, watching the distant sky cautiously.

"Sweeper force is moving pretty slowly."

"I noticed." James responded. "They're setting up fire teams, checking for ambushes, the works. We got 'em scared."

It was an observation Ed could have made by himself, of course, but it was best to voice observations to make sure everyone agreed. If opinions differed, it was possible that someone had overlooked something important.

Overlooking important details frequently leads to rapid, bloody death on the battlefield.

"Hit and run?" Ed offered.

"Best tactic."

"I talked to Vegeta and Nappa. They have similar plans."

"So..."

"So..."

Ed sat down next to James. "What have you learned in the last four days?"

James looked at his hand, calloused and scarred. "I'm a lot stronger than I thought I was, and everything is... different. It's nicer."

"You don't look happy about having this control over your ki." Ed pointed out.

"No. I was a killer once, and after this, a killer I will always be."

Ed scratched his chin, in deep thought for a moment. "That's nothing new."

"I've just been thinking we should end this."

Ed nodded in understanding. James wasn't talking about K-778, Korindoth. He wasn't talking about this tour of duty, or his and Ed's work for the Terra Cor Alliance. He was talking about the entire war with the Skeemdians.

For the past year, everything James and Ed knew and lived had been only a memory that fueled their burning hatred to wipe out the Skeemdian race. The careless way in which the large beings made war was appalling. Certainly, James himself had not been much better, and that's why the pair had decided to simply step into line with people who knew better. They took their orders and got the job done.

However, if James was now thinking of going rogue and ending the war, things were about to get dangerous. Very dangerous.

He had been the best of the best in his day. His abilities were called superhuman, and supernatural. He knew more about killing people than anyone else--as far he could prove. Ed was the master of blowing shit up. His resume would have to be carted around on a dolly. Between the two of them, they imagined the war would drag on for a year, tops.

Yet they had dragged their feet, held back on crucial operations, and basically sucked a special brand of ass the entire time.

Yes, the last thing that was different about James was his eyes.

The old James was back. Merciless, driven, and utterly, utterly insane.

The two looked at the approaching Skeemdians, merry plans of mayhem and death rolling about in their heads.

Tomorrow would be interesting.

- TbC


	6. Enter the Plan

Brother

Episode 6: Enter the Plan

Disclaimer: I don't own Toryama-sama's characters, just James, Ed, the TCA, and the Skeemdians (well, there's more, but that would be spoiling the later parts of this story).

Warning: Sharp language (somewhat sharper than DBZ), violence, gore (more than DBZ), and maybe a little sexual innuendo. I would rate this fic a heavy PG-13, but not R. Enjoy!

The first rule was keep it simple. Nothing screwed up plans like plans that got too complicated.

The second rule was to not stop moving. Half of the plan was built around striking too fast and going to far to be stopped. Determination would see them through. They would realize their goals by being relentless.

The third rule was not to kill each other once the fighting started.

James was pacing like a caged animal, wearing a nice smooth spot into the cave's floor. Ed leaned against one wall, his aura pulsating with invisible power, kept at the ready.

Nappa was standing almost perfectly still, watching both the Humans and the distant entrance to their hiding place. Vegeta was behind him, eating breakfast.

All of them enjoyed a good night's sleep--Vegeta and Nappa in the comfort of their craft, James and Ed tucked safely within their coats. The Skeemdians had spent the night moving ever closer. In the morning, the Humans awoke and finished off their rations. Nappa roused himself soon thereafter, with Vegeta stepping out of his craft seconds later.

The plan was simple, direct, and foolproof. The plan wouldn't, couldn't fail.

Nappa cracked his knuckles, eyes still pinned warily to the entrance, his tail wrapped tightly about his waist.

Vegeta finished his meal and wiped his lips clean with the back of his hand. "Let's get this started."

"Three." James said.

At the agreed command, the four walked to the entrance of the cave, standing tall, shoulder to shoulder. Each grinned a secret, devilish grin, promising pain and suffering to the soldiers before them.

"Two." The assassin intoned.

Auras flared. The planet shuddered in sympathy. The forest came alive with small insects. They watched as something not unlike a dragonfly dashed away from the cave's entrance like a tiny winged bullet. Below, five thousand Skeemdian troops looked up in sudden dread. Flying camera's locked onto the cave's location. Commands were sent. Safeties were un-latched.

"One."

----------

A dozen years ago, alone in a dank cell, the Saiyajin no Oji considered his options.

The child didn't realize he was the Saiyajin no Oji just yet. As far as he knew, his father still ruled the Saiyajin's planet with an iron fist. Frieza wanted something from him, that was all the boy knew. What to do with this knowledge eluded him.

Since he could do nothing at the moment, he bided his time.

Returning to his home world, once upon a time, he was shocked to find nothing more than a band of asteroids rotating the sun of his home system. Anger welled within him, impotent rage at the injustice. He had been told that a rogue comet destroyed his planet, and after finishing his most immediate assignment, rushed to see the news for himself.

No spacecraft floated about. The place was dead--space dead, cold and barren. Burnt rocks floated around him like autumn leaves tumbling to the ground, and for once--and the only time--in the Saiyajin no Oji life, Vegeta cried.

Years passed. Many years. They blended into one another. Years of blood and insults, of humiliation and regret. Only three Saiyajins besides he remained alive. One was off-world on assignment. His brother had returned to the Saiyajin home world shortly after Vegeta, and seemed unimpressed with what he saw. Nappa, a guard of the Royal Family and Vegeta's retainer, remained with him... through the years. Years that reminded him that he was the last; strong, proud, pure.

So many years.

----------

The twin flares of the Saiyajin's spacecraft hurtled into the sky, taking off for a safer parking spot. The cave's entrance vanished in an explosion of light.

They covered over two kilometers before the giant Sky Goats found them, spraying streams of plasma at the ground. The energy beams cut through trees like a blowtorch through toilet paper, leaving great scalding craters in the ground. Nappa and Vegeta, each on the outside of the small band, fired ki blasts back to take out the first craft and its second. Another troop was on its way, but several minutes off.

They dashed ahead, aiming for a row of hills that ran almost all the way to the Skeemdian's base--using the ridge for cover was the only tactical advantage they could find on such short notice.

At least the Humans could now throw ki blasts as well.

----------

It was all true.

James, a boy sixteen years and several lifetimes old, set down the large book he had been reading. He hated it when he made sense. He hated it when he was right. He hated it because he was only right about the bad things. He only had common sense that fit the horrors of the world. Like a magnet for evil, everything in his life tore itself apart like clockwork day in and day out.

It was a macabre tale, this existence of his.

The book detailed a plot of perfect evil--the special kind of truly human evil that James knew far too much about. Everything he feared was true. Every last one of the few hopes he held onto was worthless. His world was about to be taken over by a power-mad group of sociopaths and he could do nothing to stop them.

Nothing... except....

But no. To fight the monster of human evil _that_ way would surely make him a monster himself.

And yet...

He flirted with the idea that he alone could face that evil, become it, defeat it, and somehow keep the innocent out of his battle. There was a chance of success, a maddening chance.

If he became the greatest warrior ever...

He could do it. He knew how. He knew there were others with the pieces he needed; the right skills, the right information... but no.

And yet...

He went in circles for weeks. Days of school and nights of studying flew by. Ignored by his family except for occasional bouts of abuse, he had lots of time to think. To wonder. To ask if he had the strength to cast aside his humanity for a greater cause. If he did, would he have any regrets?

He made his decision before the week's end.

----------

James sprinted through the underbrush, exultation like fire in his veins, a fire quenched and shaped by cold fear--all directed and fueled by a killing fury that he knew all too well. Senses were honed to razor-sharp levels of perception. Nothing escaped his notice. Any enemy he so much as felt nearby would die with speed that was difficult for even the master assassin to contemplate. About him slid his allies; all primed for battle. James, in the lead, played pointman, just like the 'good old days.'

Vegeta was in his own world, seething. How dare these... these INSECTS rise against him? Skeemdians. The word would remain burned into his memory until he killed the lot of them. Fucking worthless, revolting, under-evolved insects. He leapt from tree to tree, his anger powering him forward, the other three burning like tiny fires at the edges of his senses.

Nappa followed the Saiyajin no Oji's lead on the opposite side of their pack, his blood boiling. Not a soul yet, not a single target. His hands twitched as he leapt from over-sized tree limb to over-sized tree limb, the tall human below him moving from one copse of cover to another like a vengeful ghost.

----------

Failure was not an option.

Nappa's last standing order from the King had been simple: look after Vegeta. Now, with his planet gone, the young warrior was among the last of a dying people. Nappa had watched his charge grow in both power and maturity over the years. He had a temper, as all Saiyajins did, but he learned from his mistakes rapidly. His skills increased by leaps and bounds. When the King was killed, he could match Nappa blow for blow with ease.

Nappa had earned respect from his charge, something he did not fully accept from the short, spry warrior. Nappa knew he was a failure in many ways. He was brash and hot-headed, eager to get into a fight, and eager to end it in the most violent ways. Vegeta was ever understanding, turning the larger Saiyajin's rage and fighting prowess into a unique play, a ballet of destruction--and often death--that enthralled the young Price.

It struck Nappa dumb one day to hear Vegeta praise his fighting as 'a rare form for the Saiyajin race.' He dubbed it 'comical yet pleasing.'

Comical? How was that 'rare form'? Some things the Price said puzzled him to no end. Was he clumsy? Simply stupid? Though his anger bristled at the mere possibility, he said nothing. Vegeta never went out of his way to insult Nappa, though chastising insults were not uncommon both on and off the field of battle.

In time, Nappa felt that Vegeta did respect him as a warrior, for his cunning, for his determination. Certainly the Price didn't feel sorry for him, it wasn't the way of a Saiyajin to be amused by weakness. Vegeta prided the large fighter on his ingenuity.

It was high praise indeed, coming from the most powerful warrior in a race where strength and strength alone determined one's worth.

Weak as he may have been, Nappa would not fail his Price, his lord and master. He would fight by the Prince's side until death and beyond, battling demons in the afterlife, if things came to that.

Failure was not an option.

----------

Ed was a simple man. He grew up in an average home, in an average town. He felt like he lived in the middle of nowhere and had yearned to do something important with his life. After enduring high school, he quickly learned he had a gift for machinery, and the weapons that machines could produce under his skilled hands.

He wasn't a born combatant. He didn't live to fight; not like the others, but he had convictions. Convictions James called him on almost daily. James made his own rules and lived by them with a religious fervor that Ed admired and feared greatly.

Joining forces with the Earth's greatest assassin had been no accident. Coincidence, yes, but no accident by the furthest stretch of the most vividly flawed imagination. James was fighting an international conspiracy single-handedly. He had crafted his own mind and body into a weapon of such perfection that it drew tears to the eyes of those who witnessed him in action. At a young age--only seventeen or eighteen by Ed's count--the young Mr. Rahn had chosen his path in life, made his rules, and lived by them. He was good simply because he chose to be and matched his actions to his decision.

Ed had learned to do the same, over the years. Life had become one never-ending war from that moment on. His knowledge had become his curse; a curse he did not mind in the least, as he was content doing what he did best.

Then the world blew up in their faces.

Literally.

The conviction that Ed had always observed rather than felt had now become real feeling. He spun his wheels for year, his panicked mind dispensing an idea every ten seconds, each birthed for the single reason of erasing the Skeemdians from existence.

The morning had been like the last piece of a cosmic puzzle clicking firmly into place.

----------

Each had a chosen path.

Separate yet linked.

Each knew their place in the order of things.

Now it was time to work together.

Fight or die.

- TbC


	7. Enter the CounterAttack

Brother

Episode 7: Enter the Counter-Attack

Disclaimer: I don't own Toryama-sama's characters, just James, Ed, the TCA, and the Skeemdians (well, there's more, but that would be spoiling the later parts of this story).

Warning: Sharp language (somewhat sharper than DBZ), violence, gore (more than DBZ), and maybe a little sexual innuendo. I would rate this fic a heavy PG-13, but not R. Enjoy!

The first died standing, fingers poised to radio in a report.

The second died turning to face its leader.

The third actually aimed its weapon at the shadow.

The forth saw its companions' killer.

James grinned like a demon, covered from head to toe in the blood of his enemies. He danced around them like smoke, cackling madly and calling to them. Insane laughter echoed in his wake, bodies falling to the ground as he passed.

The effect was, as Ed had once observed, like throwing mice at a mountain lion; hard on the mice and somewhat amusing to the mountain lion.

The lone Skeemdian felt real fear at that moment. It blinked, taking in the empty space of air that once held a Human assassin of legendary skill. It was sure something had been there a second ago. Something--

A splattering noise drew the Skeemdian's attention to its abdomen, its eyes were about to identify the organ that was stuck fast to its skin, but the last thing to go through its mind was an explosive .50 caliber bullet.

"Yippie ki-yi ya, you ugly sack of meat." James eloquently mis-quoted as he disappeared into the shadows.

The Assassin was back.

----------

Ed ran through and around the plants, feeling like a rat stuck in a rain forest. Everything organic was ridiculously large, yet thankfully absent of insects. There was only the distant hum of the Sky-Cows and the wet crunching sounds of his own footfalls through the plants to keep him company.

Each hand held one of his 35-AK handguns. Each was a semi-automatic "super handgun" with customized .35-caliber ammunition. He was down to these, the 'Hurtalot' rocket launcher and his MB-666 machine gun, with only seven hundred rounds left.

There was, of course, the backup thermonuclear warhead and about twenty knives of varying sizes, but Ed wasn't in the mood to commit suicide just yet.

The gun in his right hand was loaded with the duct tape clips--each fired a fragmentary round that would briefly stun a normal Skeemdian. The right hand had the yellow tape clips--high velocity bullets that were one-shot kills if you knew how to use them. Ed knew that in this cover there wouldn't be enough space for long-range firefights, so his tactics would be simple. Shoot first, shoot again (many, many times), and pray that there was nothing left to interrogate afterwards.

The only problem was his painful lack of ammunition: a mere five clips of each type--which translated into a meager 200 rounds.

He crested the ridge at full run. The foliage unexpectedly fell away, revealing the rocky ground around him like morning mist parted by beams of sunlight. Trees towered over him like a miniature metropolis.

And a dozen Skeemdians in camouflage suits stood in wait.

Ed was shooting before he realized what he was up against. He dove to the left, praying (as he flew through the air with both guns firing) that he wouldn't run head-first into the nearest tree. Bullets and energy beams lanced through the clearing, cutting apart trees, trimming plants, and generally making an epic mess of the ridge-top clearing all in the blink of an eye. Ed's guns ran dry just before he hit the ground and used his momentum to roll behind one of the massive tree trunks.

He remembered Skeemdians. Skeemdians shooting at him. One had taken a hit in the leg and didn't even flinch. Ed's hands were reloading at a blinding pace even as his brain raced to catch up with his heartbeat. The twin actions slammed closed as he rolled out from behind the tree. A portion of his mind noted that it was rapidly being cut apart by the Skeemdian's weapons.

He side-stepped rapidly to his left, his mind finally synched with the rest of his body. Each of the five Skeemdian went down in turn; two to the chest from one gun, two the brain with the other. He noted with satisfaction that the yellow tape rounds where leaving exit wounds the size of grapefruit in the Skeemdians. _Wait, wasn't there six?!_

Out of bullets. He backpedaled, throwing one gun into the air and fishing a missile out of his coat. The explosive dropped to the ground harmlessly, Ed caught his free gun, then deftly flattened himself against the backside of yet another tree. His hands reloaded on automatic again. He barely heard the clips bouncing amongst the rocky ground.

He did notice the sudden silence.

_There was only five that time. There was six when I hit the top. Six, then five. I didn't put one down. He's still out there. He's--_

He was to Ed's right. Ed turned, firing sight unseen, as a veritable whip of energy chorused through the tree six inches from his head. Hairs on the back of his neck jumped to attention and did a Chinese fire drill on the spot. His vision blurred and a buzzing noise--not unlike a jar full of homicidal wasps implanted into his brain--beat mercilessly on his eardrums.

The stream of plasma died abruptly at the same time Ed's gun ran dry.

"That was too close." He said slowly.

"You're right about that." James said, glaring his friend from behind the Skeemdian's corpse. "C'mon, drop those hunks of junk. We're too close for that kind of cowboy shit."

Before Ed could reply, the air was rent with a yell of rage, followed shortly by the sound of a ship exploding. The concussion echoed off the hill, rocking James and Ed on their feet.

"Go?" James pointed towards the Skeemdian base.

Ed nodded and the two took off. Directly behind them, two squads of Skeemdians rushed into the clearing, looking around in shock. James... just disappeared, Ed noted sourly. He jumped, spun 180 degrees, and fired into the crowd with the duct tape rounds. As he had hoped, one clipped the rocket he left in the rocks earlier. He continued his spin for another 180 degrees before he hit the ground and dashed around cover.

The mess the rocket had turned the Skeemdian troops into did not invite description.

"Now what was that about useless?" Ed asked the wind. With a grunt, he noted that he was alone. _Now where did James get to?_

----------

James found trouble. Lots of trouble. Lots of short, six-limbed, two hundred kilograms a piece trouble. Trouble his skills were well suited to eliminating.

He broke their ranks with a classic two-for-one. Dashing from shadow to shadow, he cut down one Skeemdian with his sword, neatly bisecting the alien before he knew what hit him. During that same dash, he threw a sticky bomb at another Skeemdian, one a dozen feet away. The bomb went off after a one second delay, taking out that soldier and wounding the one next to him. The two remaining Skeemdians were looking in the direction of the explosion, and not at their violently dissected comrade. James took each from behind using his large .50-caliber handgun.

He had become stronger, faster, and more eager to use these newfound abilities over the last few days. He was enjoying himself immensely, and marveled at the power he'd gained simply by witnessing another call it forth. To James, ki had been something useful, but mundane. Ki, put simply, was concentration. Focus.

He had one technique that was particularly well suited to this focus. If performed incorrectly, it could result in severe injury, but with the proper focus, it was incredibly powerful, able to shatter stone with ease.

But ki as a real source of energy, energy his body could use and his mind could form as easily as soft clay... now that was something new. He had quickly figured out how to extend his old technique--the Stonecrusher Fist he called it--to greatly enhance both his strength and speed. Coupled with his formidable experience and skills in killing people quickly and simply, he was nearly unstoppable against any human opponent. The Skeemdians could be handled easily now that the playing field was level.

He leapt into the shadows once again, moving like a wraith. This kind of trouble he could handle all day.

----------

Explosions thundered across the countryside. Beams of pure light criss-crossed the sky in patterns of pure insanity.

Skeemdian air forces: 0 Airborne Saiyajin warriors: 26

Vegeta tumbled under a series of shots that formed a series of lazy X's in the clear morning sky, drawing a bead on the most distant ship. A ball of ki flew from his fingertips easily a second later, nailing the ship before it could dodge and ending his airborne dance. He leveled himself in the air, then dodge to one side as his dairokan tipped him off to an attack from the ground. Out of the corner of his eye, he traced the beam back to where it exited the trees and fired a blast in that general direction, clearing land and adding yet another smoking crater to the landscape.

"Nappa! Are we getting any closer?!" He yelled to the winds.

His servant's voice floated back from the other side of the ridge. "Much, much closer. I think they're beginning to pull back as well."

Vegeta snarled in agitation. Flying was not a way to conserve energy, it actually expended a fair amount, and he felt very exposed at this altitude. He and Nappa had dropped low on opposite sides of the ridge, moving forward in time with the two Humans.

Teamwork was key, and playing out his part of the plan was boring, yet dangerous. The tedium was maddening, and being shot at was very annoying.

He grit his teeth together until his jaw began to ache. The plan was working brilliantly. Simple, decisive, direct. The only problem was that they had to work at the same pace as the Humans below. Vegeta planned to kill them once this foolish battle was over, but something about the pair bothered him.

He dodged three sets of successive blasts from the ground. Two from below, one from above. Amateurs. He let fly two more blasts, catching all three fire teams in a miniature inferno, then returned to musing over his new 'comrades.'

_There's something wrong with those two. They're very similar to Saiyajins, but ridiculously weak. What I don't understand is how they doubled their power in just two days! What kind of race has that ability?_

There was an alternative answer to this, of course. The Humans were able to 'power down' when they weren't using their ki, returning to a resting power level. It struck Vegeta as a simple but dangerous trick. If they were caught with their guard down...

_And when they talked about the Skeemdians destroying their home world... such anger. Rage. All it turned into raw power. I thought there were going to explode! Why, that James fellow was glowing red. Glowing! His power level spiked enormously. I could feel it..._

Emotion. That was the trigger for the Humans. When they got angry, they fought with a ferocity that defied explanation. Perhaps anger was a special kind of insanity.

Vegeta flipped aside of yet another energy blast. Whatever the case, these two bore watching. Perhaps he wouldn't kill them after all.

----------

James wondered if he was stuck in a bad samurai movie. Guns exhausted, he was down to a sword, his wits, and seventy-five thousand Skeemdians out for his blood.

Akira Kurosawa would be proud.

He rushed the next squad with a vicious smile holding onto his lips and fire burning in his eyes.

Vegeta and Nappa had dropped dozens of the Sky-Cows so far; the explosion of yet another fireball in the sky was becoming a constant thunder in the distance. One carrier had managed to close in on Ed and James' position, dropping a crew of ground-clearing Skeemdians in their path.

Excellent. They looked like some high-ranking types, with heavy duty radio transceivers mounted atop their bodies.

James cut from one end of the clearing to the other in a single blurry line. At the end of the clearing, he ran straight up one tree, kicked in his ki, and rocketed away like a missile. Spinning slowly in the air, he let fly a spare hand grenade in one direction, and a knife in the other.

Too easy. With another push from his ki, he dropped from the air faster than gravity permitted, dodging twin plasma beams, and grabbed the dying Skeemdian with a knife sticking from his chest, using him as a shield.

The grenade went off, taking out the rest of the pack.

Too easy.

He gathered his energy for a second, letting it rush through his veins like liquid lightning, and leapt skyward. He cleared the treetops in a single leap, and quickly sighted Vegeta.

"Move on! Fast!" James yelled to the Saiyajin.

"Understood!" Vegeta yelled back.

James dropped to the ground, thumbing the microphone in his coat. "Ed, we're moving two kilometers down as fast as we can. The valley turns there and I smell an ambush. Tell Nappa."

"Understood." Ed tersely replied, the sound of explosions coming over the communications link a split-second before their echos could be heard over the ridge.

James blinked. _He... Vegeta... aw, screw it._

- TbC


	8. Enter the Plan: Part Deux

Brother

Episode 8: Enter the Plan: Part Deux

Disclaimer: I don't own Toryama-sama's characters, just James, Ed, the TCA, and the Skeemdians (well, there's more, but that would be spoiling the later parts of this story).

Warning: Sharp language (somewhat sharper than DBZ), violence, gore (more than DBZ), and maybe a little sexual innuendo. I would rate this fic a heavy PG-13, but not R. Enjoy!

Nappa landed heavily, rolling away even as his first target fell to the ground in two neatly bisected pieces. His ki cackled about his hands, drawn into thin tendrils--ropes of raw power--that cut finer and faster than the sharpest knife ever made.

He let a yell of anger follow as four more Skeemdians rushed him. They were cut apart mercilessly, the blackened sky and shredded landscape bearing witness of a whirlwind of death and destruction. His feet moved from vegetation to rock in the course of the battle, as he danced on the edge of a large volcanic crater, following the line between life and death.

He slid to a stop, corpses piled at his feet like trees cut violently felled in the wrath of a passing storm. Quiet settled over everything, perfect and complete for a moment.

Then the sounds of distant combat came to him, slowly, as if he was waking from a dream. The war raged on about him, distant yet oppressive, soldiers flooding in from every direction. Closing in for the kill. Snarling in disgust, he leapt away from a beam of plasma as it tore into the ground beneath his feet. That had been a close one.

"BASTARDS!" He yelled, turning on them viciously. The hairs on the back of his neck abruptly came to attention as the squad which had been aiming for him obligingly exploded.

_I... didn't do that._ He thought quickly.

Turning 180 degrees before he landed, Nappa found himself face to face with the larger of the two Human warriors. A grinning Human warrior. It was not a happy grin. Not the grin found on children at play. Not a grin of contentment. No, it was a grin completely and utterly lacking in mirth, a gesture that showed a smile was just an old reflex that bared the teeth.

He stepped around Nappa and fired again.

Nappa looked at the Human in puzzlement. Ed's black coat was scorched between rivulets of alien blood that criss-crossed the garmet, dripping onto the smoking ground. In places, he could see bits of flesh that no professor of Anatomy could possibly identify. Most of it was thrown loose as the blow-back from Ed's last shot cast his coat about in the sudden, stiff wind. The Human turned towards Nappa with a worn smile as the report echoed off of the distant mountains.

"So, what's going on here?" He asked.

"Um... more of the usual." Nappa said, uncomfortable.

"Think we have a chance of winning?"

Nappa scoffed. No Saiyajin would be brought low by these... these insects! A short bought of maniacal laughter later, Nappa shook his head. "Not in a million years."

Ed's grin turned vicious again. "As they say, there's no time like the present. Let's take it to them!"

"Right on!" Bellowed Nappa

The two charged back into battle.

----------

"YEEEAAARRRGGG-HAAAAAA!!!"

Vegeta hurled a stray aircraft into the ground, his vocal cords tossing aside the complex notes and tones of language in favor of an open-throat yell. The ground beneath him glowed from the ship's last barrage, and the clouds were lit from below by its explosive demise a moment later. Dead Skeemdians lay all about, markers of a body count rising into the tens of thousands. They were piled two and three high in many places, particularly visible where immense trees had been burned down to toothpicks and ferns the size of houses had been reduced to smoldering stalks of carbon.

James and Ed were missing. Nappa was down on the other side of this hill and killing nasty things, which was great fun in his book.

The Saiyajin no Oji was tempted to say things were going well.

Cutting off the ki that kept him airborne, he began a slow dive towards the ground. He was interrupted when a severed hand with six fingers flew through the air in front of him.

Vegeta blinked. _What the hell?_

"BOOM! WHEEE!!" Exclaimed a voice from the ground. Not surprisingly, it was followed by the report of a minor explosion.

"BITCH!" Another voice echoed from the base of the hill.

He fell immediately to the ground, crushing a lone Skeemdian underfoot like a grapefruit under a Cadillac. Something was going wrong down here.

He hated it when things went wrong.

Another explosion shook the ground underfoot, like the fist of a giant slamming into the ground. Vegeta rocked on his feet, his hair unaffected by the sudden wind kicked up.

"LAST ONE!" Yelled a not-too-distant voice.

"EAST! EAST!" Commanded a more distant one.

Something not unlike a giant buzz saw cut through the undergrowth following the clipped orders. The tall Human sprinted past Vegeta, a chunk of distorted metal in one hand.

"Human! What is going on here?" The Prince demanded.

The Human warrior skidded to a halt in mid-air, his feet six inches above the ground. "Lots of the bastards on the West side. We're taking the high ground."

"Ground forces?" Vegeta queried.

"Yes. Air defenses have pulled back. Your doing, I suppose?"

"Of course." Vegeta answered, his mind half on the conversation. He wondered if the other Human would need assistance. He was a violent sort, and enjoyed war far too much. Vegeta had been watching, watching how his eyes shone with each kill. It was one thing to enjoy the battle, revel in the conflict, and celebrate victory, but this one was not here for the fight. He was a killer through and through, and when he waded into the Skeemdian forces, it was with the intent to be the last man alive. It was that moment of absolute superiority that lit up his features.

What a life.

----------

Ed continued his up-hill dash. Below, he watched Nappa work around the edge of the crater that had suddenly become their rallying point. None dared to venture within its confines--that area was central to part of their larger strategy, and would be put to use later. He poured on the speed as a flurry of miniature ground rockets narrowly missed him. He was down to a crowbar and the Forbidden Techniques.

He really, _really_ didn't want to use the Forbidden Techniques. Not only were they, well... forbidden, but they were embarrassing as well. It was a strange legacy James had left him. They practiced a martial arts style with only a dozen basic moves and four special attacks. All were lethal in a single blow, and none of them truly specialized. Given the enormous boost in basic abilities that their recent ki discovery permitted, the Forbidden Techniques would be gross overkill, yet....

Yet both had expended all of their ammunition already. Only one weapon remained, and neither was prepared to detonate a thermonuclear bomb in order to achieve victory. Not today.

So, it was the Forbidden Techniques.

Ed mounted the last ridge, little more than a dark line of soil, and stood to defend for the second phase of the plan. His eyes narrowed, crowbar held in a ready position, as a hundred screaming Skeemdian warriors charged up the slope he now commanded.

----------

Vegeta was right. He _hated_ it when he was right. He was always right about the bad things, the wrong things, the things that drove lesser men to madness.

And dammit, he was _right_ this time, so much it hurt.

James came bursting from the ground cover just as Ed had done seconds ago. James had no weapons in his hands. No fancy guns or terrible explosives. He held not knives nor swords nor bombs. He had only his bare hands and his wits about him.

He also had his skill. His ki... and a lot of luck.

"Detroit Fist!" He shouted, dodging to one side so fast that a normal person would have seen only his after-image. The Skeemdian squad which was chasing him found themselves caught flatfooted. James punched the lead one dead in the chest. It really looked like a punch.

Vegeta did note how James' fist just _appeared_ in the Skeemdian's mid-section. It was just _there_, without the little punching bit in between. James wasn't that fast....

The Human flipped backwards several times. Thankfully, he launched himself into the air first. As he landed, he drew a tiny bit of wood from within the folds of his coat and smirked at the charging Skeemdians like a god about to extract vengeance for a crime to terrible to name. "BEHOLD THE POWER OF THE GREAT TOOTHPICK!"

_The __**what?!**_ Vegeta was thinking as James carved up the Skeemdians like a Thanksgiving turkey.

That bought of carnage not worth description finished, he stuck the wooden piece in his mouth and smiled broadly as Vegeta. Vegeta looked back at the beaten, bruised, and thoroughly lethal form of James Rahn through narrowed eyes.

"I won't waste your time asking what madness you've embarked on now... but I do want to know what you are going to do with this force of insanity."

"Thanks for being concerned with my well being." James said flatly. "You know, there are more of them."

That wasn't an answer. Vegeta shook his head. He had no idea what wild moss James had been munching on, either here or before his arrival, but it was clear the Human was utterly, utterly cracked. "Right... whatever."

James' gaze didn't waver. "Many, many more. You could say we have a ... 'problem.'"

"Problem?" Vegeta quickly checked his reserves, refusing to be worried. He could last for a long time yet, but the Skeemdians _did_ have a giant shield that needed to be put down. He _was_ tired, but just a little.

"Yeah. About ten thousand little problems and a few dozen much bigger ones."

"What's that rumbling noise?"

James sighed, a smile cracking his face. "I've been waiting to use this line for a while now."

"What?"

"It's a fuckin' ambush! RUUUN!!!"

Vegeta took a step back in surprise. He must really be slipping if James could... that rumbling was growing louder.

Step.

It was also growing... closer.

Step.

It was getting _very_ close.

Step.

It was on top of them.

Skeemdians came charging up the hill like ants. In a wave of life, they simply obliterated what was in their path. Vegeta could easily imagine the air itself darting out of their way.

Running sounded very appealing right now.

Very appealing indeed. He scowled when he noticed James was ahead of him, screaming at the top of his lungs.

"MONTANA WAY!!!"

The wave of living death rode over the rocks, dissolving the foliage. Vegeta ran, the Human before him, uphill. The Skeemdians may have had them out-numbered over a thousand to one, but they obviously didn't know the first thing about strategy.

_It's time to fry some bugs._

Vegeta smiled.

And all was going as planned…

- TbC


	9. Enter the Massive Offensive

Brother

Episode 9: Enter the Massive Offensive

Disclaimer: I don't own Toryama-sama's characters, just James, Ed, the TCA, and the Skeemdians (well, there's more, but that would be spoiling the later parts of this story).

Warning: Sharp language (somewhat sharper than DBZ), violence, gore (more than DBZ), and maybe a little sexual innuendo. I would rate this fic a heavy PG-13, but not R. Enjoy!

James' blood was singing. The wind, sweet and thick with the smells of life and death, slid around him at he crested the rocky hill. Vegeta was a half-pace behind him, flying with his arms outstretched. Oddly, the pose reminded him of a kid playing airplane. Had he been oblivious to the several thousand alien warriors a dozen paces behind him, he might have said it was a beautiful day.

No beautiful days were filled with this much violence.

At the top of the hill, Ed and Nappa stood. Waiting. James let off his special technique, Vegeta stopping steady in air at the same time. They turned to face the Skeemdian horde, now only a few feet away. Blades wielded by the six-limbed monsters seemed to glint evilly as they closed the few remaining inches to their targets.

The sound was bone-chilling. James could see some ten thousand troops charging the hill, filling the next two valleys, annihilating anything in their path as they chased the group to ground.

The Skeemdians were practically on top of them now. A blade whizzed by James' face and time seemed to slow.

Like the cresting of a wave so large and devastating that it is not seen until it is upon you, the ki that the Saiyajins and humans had been building up burst forth. If the Skeemdians' facial expressions had any meaning to James, he would say that the entire lot of them looked like a rat that had just bit into a lamp cord, realizing a split-second before it is flash-fried that the power was still on.

A thousand points of light suddenly appeared around each of the fighters.

"KISSES FROM HEAVEN, YOU BASTARDS!!!" Ed yelled.

Committed to their charge, the Skeemdians couldn't stop, even as those at the front desperately tried to reverse their course.

The one that had missed James on his last swing was cut to pieces before his blade could be brought around. The points of light around the four condensed and shimmered as if they were alive before shooting into the sky with an electric scream that beat on eardrums like a rain of rusty nails. The Skeemdians in the front rows were pushed back by white-hot lances of pure ki generated by Vegeta, stalling the front lines while their attack continued through the air.

The points spread out as they reached the apex of their tight parabolic arcs, accelerating before they rained down upon thousands of Skeemdian troops like brimstone. Within half a second, their screams went from triumphant and exultant, to pained and panicked. Terror swept through the soldiers like a plague.

"HIT 'EM!" James howled, already charging up his second attack. The first was a remarkable tool for distracting, but now it was time for the crushing blow. The second attack was a more generic ki 'blast' that could kill a Skeemdian if it struck them full on. It was their ace in the hole. The Skeemdians had put down their energy weapons, finding their opponents more or less unarmed. If the four started pulling off plasma weapon-like attacks, the Skeemdians would damn their efforts to conserve energy and swarm the fighters.

So, the four would simply hit them so fast they wouldn't have a chance to respond.

Vegeta was nearly exploding with power, his aura buzzing about him, a nimbus of pure energy. Further down, Nappa was emulating his partner with his own storm of energy. To the other side of James, Ed was also mimicking the power building exercise.

They finished but a few seconds later, as the Skeemdians were finding that the flashy light-show that had just hit them had done little more than mildly injure. Confusion mixed with the bitter taste of fear, leaving the army still frozen in it's tracks even as more lethal attacks were prepared and leveled at them.

Without ceremony, the four raised their arms towards the enemy, brief flashes of light illuminating their faces as small balls of energy were rapidly formed in their palms and sent rocketing towards the alien troops.

Each globe of energy detonated like a pound of C4 on contact, decimating the Skeemdian army soldier by soldier. James and Ed fired dozens upon dozens of shots into the nearest waves of troops, letting off the energy blasts as fast as they could form them. The Saiyajins did the same, but in ten times the volume as they cleared out the back ranks.

The four beaten and bruised warriors stoically stood their ground, faces taunt and determined. Blast after blast rocked the battlefield, the stacco string of explosions blending into one ferocious torrent of concussive noise that echoed off of the distant cliffs.

The ground was being re-shaped by the second. A crater here, a pile of bodies their, all shifting and flying about; bone and dirt and blood and rocks mixing together in a whirlwind of destruction. No stone was left un-scorched as the sky darkened from the debris hurled into the air. The Plot fell to the 4,365th blast, never to rise again.

The advancing horde was not being driven back.

It was being annihilated.

----------

Explosion landed on top of explosion. Limbs were thrown around as easily as rocks. Many of the advancing Skeemdians, realizing the danger, broke ranks, only to run into more deadly attacks. Some tried to out-flank the blasts, but couldn't outrun them. One Skeemdian, reaching the edge of the far right echelon, had his legs blasted off. The severed limbs left so suddenly that he didn't feel any pain until he stopped and looked to see why he wasn't moving forward.

Some of the attacking solders stoically stood their ground, watching the shining orbs of death descend upon them, knowing that after this moment, there would be nothing. Many of the brave ones crouched and charged for their enemy, believing that could wear down and eventually overwhelm these living monsters, the Gods of Destruction given flesh. Had they the energy to speak, they would have been chanting "nothing is impossible."

But there was nowhere they could run, nothing that could hide them, and no mercy to save them. The Saiyajins held nothing but contempt for the Skeemdians, which they killed as mercilessly as one slaughters insects. The humans offered them only callus hatred. James and Ed were the architects of humankind's vengeance.

_We have lost too much,_ James mused. _And come to far to stop._

It may have been a small battle on a small planet with small strategic importance. It could have been a tiny meaningless rock in the middle of a vast, unimportant nowhere. But James and Ed choose to stand now, with the power that they wielded, and cut down their enemies.

It wasn't a war for them any longer. They had no lands to win back. It was extermination. It was calculated vengeance. It was a slaughter, a rampage.

James didn't know if it had a point. He didn't care anymore. There was, quite simply, nothing for him to return to. There was no reason to stop, no reason to hold back, no reason to think that he could lie down and let it be.

There was no home for them to rest in.

No parade to celebrate their achievements.

And standing there amongst comrades, fighting for the basic right to live, he felt alone and aimless as he never had before. Back on earth he'd fought with purpose. Purpose had given him need. Need had driven everything. Need moved purpose forward, purpose led to goal, and that was it.

But what about the Skeemdians? What was the goal? They vowed to never stop fighting. To bring peace of any kind to race he didn't know and wasn't brother to meant genocide. After that, there wasn't an earth to go back to.

_Need: Survive this battle, fight others._

_Purpose: Defeat Skeemdians and reach their home planet._

_Goal: Kill all Skeemdians._

_Hmph._ He let knives and guns and body parts bounce off of him, uncaring what debris was spread where. _Kill all Skeemdians._

Lacking another outlet for the feeling inside, he poured his heart into creating the blasts, and with it, felt something _give_ inside. His heart went from racing to screaming. The energy in his hands doubled, the glowing orbs coming out faster and cackling with deadly energy, as if his thoughts and emotions had been given physical form to step forth and fight his battles for him.

Perhaps they would now fight on his side.

----------

If they had any future in this battle, it was one moving forward. Abruptly their reign over the field of battle ended, and the four moved down the destroyed slope, wandering into the leveled waste.

Skeemdian bodies were piled ten and twenty deep. Some of the remains were scorched black. A severed arm here, a digit there. Some body parts were black from their own blood mixed with the volcanic soil. It was impossible to tell where the Skeemdians ended and where Korindoth began.

Even the craters were lined with bodies. A squad of Marines could spend a month here and not come close to figuring out the body count. Their best, and Ed's only answer, would have been "lots."

The stench was beyond horrible. It crawled up the nose, crept down the throat, and sank into the skin, invading their bodies with the tenacity of a living thing. Ed knew, the very instant they stepped off their perch at the top of the volcano, that they would never be completely free of that smell.

The Saiyajins marched forward with no visible change. Perhaps the didn't care. Perhaps they had seen enough death. Ed had met soldiers of Tera Cor who were like that. You could hack of a limb and they wouldn't care. To them the world had lost definition. There was no tomorrow, no yesterday, and above all else, no today. Only war remained in their minds, clouding out all other thoughts.

Where Nappa and Vegeta like them? Were their entire lives dedicated to one unending war? Ed felt that was where he was headed. He wasn't there yet. As he marched over the charred earth and countless dead bodies, he knew he was headed there fast. Wits still about him, standing on the edge, looking over, inches from falling in. He'd leap in headlong if it would bring back his friends, his family, his planet earth... and here he was prepared to erase and entire _race_ for doing the same to his. Tit for tat. Eye for eye.

Regardless of his feelings on the matter, he kept marching forward. For now there was Korindoth. Tomorrow they could work on the next battle, and after that the next, and so on. But he knew, in this field of death so plain and obvious and extreme that it was almost tangible... he knew that they had to remember the big picture. They had to remember this to know when to hold back, when to stop.

A lone Skeemdian came charging at James from behind one of the many indistinct piles of rubble/bodies. It was moving too fast to track with his human vision, but James stopped it with a well-placed knee. A quick flip landed James behind the Skeemdian and left the beast wide open for Vegeta's quick ki blasts that blew a nice hole right in the center of it's chest.

_I will remember everything._ Ed silently vowed. _Everything._

And the Skeemdians' backup began their attack.

- TbC


End file.
